


Moments in time

by purplesky24



Category: PIERCE Tamora - Works, Tortall - Tamora Pierce
Genre: Spoilers for Book: Mastiff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-13
Updated: 2018-03-13
Packaged: 2019-03-30 20:34:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13959486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purplesky24/pseuds/purplesky24
Summary: A series of one-shots, post Mastiff. Major spoilers for Mastiff.





	1. Teacher - Goodwin and Beka

**Author's Note:**

> I just finished reading Mastiff, and couldn't help wondering how things went when Beka and the hunt party came home. Here's what I imagine might have taken place.

Beka finished her oral report at long last, and reached out to take a sip of water. Goodwin eyed her former Puppy as Beka accidentally let water spill on her tunic, her usual coordination not quite with her. Beka drank as if she didn’t notice. 

Goodwin almost didn’t. She didn’t hear Lord Gershom said his dismissal, and only realised what had passed when Beka and Lady Sabine stood up as one to leave. The mage Farmer Cape remained in his seat, and belatedly she remembered that Lord Gershom was going to ask him about taking up the post of the Chancellor of Mages. From the reports that they had shared, Goodwin thought that Lord Gershom should save his breath. 

But that was his decision, and his mess. Goodwin got up from her chair and bowed a farewell to Lord Gershom. She didn’t understand how her world could be turned upside down in the span of a few hours, but it did, and she didn’t know what to do. 

There was one thing that she did know she could do, however.

“Cooper.” Goodwin laid a hand on Beka’s shoulder when she caught up with her and Lady Sabine at the corridors. 

Lady Sabine nodded a greeting, and Goodwin nodded back curtly. She had never seen the lady knight so weary or gloomy, but Goodwin wasn’t inclined to offer comfort to her now, not when the lady knight was the curst source of the problem. Her former Puppy, however, was another matter entirely. 

“I’ll escort you home.”

Beka winced. “I’ll be fine, Goodwin.”

“You’re weary and weak from your travels, and you have enemies everywhere. Don’t be a looby.”

Beka hung her head and nodded, resignation slouching her thin shoulders. Curse it, she was so thin. Goodwin knew that the nature of Beka’s work meant a lot of long distance running. She was always a little thinner when she came back from a Hunt, but this was different. Goodwin had never seen her so thin, or haggard. She suspected that Beka left out details during hers and Cape’s three days of captivity, and it ached her heart to know that her former student had likely been subjected to the Drink and the Question. Mayhap that was why.

Or was it grief?

Goodwin batted the word away in her mind. She would unpack that tonight, when she was safe in Tomlan’s arms. 

Lady Sabine bade farewell quickly at the palace gates, eyeing Goodwin warily but giving Beka a tight hug. No words passed between the two mots as they pulled apart, but they nodded in understanding at each other. Goodwin felt a strange flare of envy. They had been with Tunstall towards the end, whereas Goodwin herself, his partner of more than a decade, was left to collect the news in Corus, struggling to reconcile the two Tunstalls. 

Goodwin flagged down a cart and passed a copper to the young lad driving it, promising a few more when they had reached their destination. They climbed on the cart and sat next to each other.

Goodwin scanned the surrounding streets. The sun was setting now, and there was a lull in the activities before folks come out for their evening plans. Everything was so… normal. 

It disgusted her.

She turned to Beka, and found her hugging her knees like a gixie, her eyes staring mindlessly at the street rolling away from them. Her heart went out to her, and she slung and arm around Beka’s shoulders, hugging her close. 

She felt Beka flinch, and quickly loosened her arm. “Are you hurt somewhere? If you had neglected to mention current injuries I will box you, a full Dog or no.”

Beka shook her head quickly. “I’m fine. Once we joined the queen, Mistress Catfoot did healings on all of us.”

Deliberately, Goodwin tightened her arm around Beka’s shoulders. She didn’t flinch this time. “Why act like a stranger, then?”

Beka clenched her fists, not meeting her eyes. “I— I’m sorry, Goodwin. If I had been a better Dog — if I had seen the signs sooner, mayhap I could have knock some sense into him.”

Goodwin felt something twist in her heart. Her anger rose and fell like tendrils of fire. Impulsively, she boxed Beka’s ears, gently. Beka turned those ghost eyes of hers to Goodwin in surprise. 

“You were focused on your hunt and your duty, as you should. You were running for your life half the time, and you still found the lad despite the odds against you. Stop being a looby about this, Cooper. You did good. The barbarian —” The words caught in her throat, and she had to look away, blinking quickly. “He made his own choices.”

Beka didn’t say anything in return, though Goodwin didn’t expect her to. 

“I told him so many times.” Goodwin heard herself say softly, a few moments later. “I’ve always said nobility is bad for him.”

Something closed around her hand gently, and she turned to find Beka holding the hand she’d slung around her shoulder. 

“He said he loved us,” Beka said, her eyes shining, “He said we are his true sisters.”

Goodwin snorted, relieved that it didn’t come out as a sob. 

The cart rounded the corner, and they got off, Goodwin tossing two more coppers to the driver. She waited while Beka dusted her breeches. When she was done, Goodwin embraced her in a tight hug, ignoring the soft gasp of surprise. 

“I’m proud of you, Cooper.” Goodwin whispered, a few tears leaking down her cheek despite her efforts. “You’ve become a better Dog than him. No teacher can hope for a greater honour.”

She heard Beka sniffled against her shoulder. They pulled apart a moment later, both taking deep breaths to calm themselves and not making eye contact as they roughly wiped their cheeks. 

Goodwin was done first, and she surveyed her former student as Beka hastily wiped her other cheek. 

“My lord gave you two weeks off,” Goodwin said, “I want you to rest and build up your strength again. Put some meat on those bones. Don’t shame me by letting some big cove of a Puppy knock you down at the training yard.”

Beka’s lips twitched at the corner. “Yes, Sergeant.” 

Goodwin turned around, and left. She knew Beka could do it. She had friends who would help her as well. 

Did Sabine have such friends? 

Goodwin glared at a passer-by, who jumped and hurried away. The curst noblewoman was the ruin of her partner. And yet, she had made him as happy as Goodwin had ever seen him, those years that they were together. Curse that barbarian. That sarden giant lump of a looby. 

Goodwin continued to glare at everyone in her path, clearing a path through townsfolk, mumpers and Rats alike as if she had a full patrol of Dogs on her back.


	2. Honour - Sabine and Nomalla

Nomalla decided that she had enough. It had been two days since she and the hunt party reported back to the palace, and the trials would begin on the day after tomorrow, when all the great nobles would finally be assembled in Corus. She had work to do. Sabine had work to do. 

Nomalla pushed open the door to the living room, and picked her way through broken plates and glasses, empty bottles and apple cores. The townhouse was not a big place to begin with, and all that trash was eating up room. 

Sabine sprawled on the armchair next to the hearth, snoring slightly. Two empty wine bottles laid around her feet. It was almost noon.

Nomalla looked around and found the pitcher Sabine used to water the flowers — Sabine had all but forgotten her duties the past few days, but no matter how drunk she got, she remembered the curst miniature roses. Nomalla dumped the water on her. 

Sabine jerked awake, spluttering and reaching for a sword that she wasn’t carrying. She swore and glared when she recognised Nomalla and the empty pitcher. “What in Mithros’ name are you doing?”

“I’ve had enough of this. Haven’t you cried enough over that traitor?”

In one breath Sabine had leapt out of her chair, hand reaching for Nomalla’s throat. But Nomalla had not been drinking through the past few days. She ducked out of the way easily, and twisted so that she locked both of Sabine’s arms in a hold, and dragged the taller mot closer. 

“Look at you,” Nomalla said, Sabine’s outraged eyes inches from her own, “Any common Rat could kill you right now. You’ll shame the sisterhood.”

Close as she was, Nomalla could see Sabine’s lips tremble and moisture welling up in her eyes. “Shame is all I have left.” Sabine whispered. 

Knowing that Sabine’s rage had faded, Nomalla loosened her grip, but kept both hands on Sabine’s. She worried that her cousin might fall. 

“You’re a fool if you’re ashamed of his actions,” Nomall told her. Sabine was always the one with the wilder ideas, even when they were girls. “He made his own choices.”

“I’m ashamed of _me_ ,” Sabine said, and Nomalla thought she heard wrong. “You don’t know him, Nomalla. He’s a legend in the Lower City. He’s one of the best Dogs with my Lord Provost. But I — I and my curst status — turned him into a traitor. I ruined him.”

Sabine let out a sob, and Nomalla let go of her hold completely. She hesitated for a moment, and pulled her cousin into a hug. It was true that Nomalla had lost her family and her standing in the rebellion, but she never had much love from her father or the rest of her family. Even if Sabine had lost only one, who was to say that her loss wasn’t greater?

“You’ve always been the soft-hearted one,” Nomalla said as Sabine sobbed into her shoulder, “You and your love for horses and your kindness to slaves. But surely, you’ve seen enough to know that folks make their own choices. He’s right that you deserve better. But it’s his pride that ruined him, not you.”

Sabine had pushed her back. “He was good enough for me! We had good times for years. He made me — he made me so curst _happy_.” Her voice broke, and she turned away and muffled her sob with her hand.

Nomalla tried not to let her envy show. She had her own share of lovers over the years. She had good times in bed, and a fling or two that made her giddy enough to make her wonder about the future. But looking at Sabine, she knew that nothing she had came even close. 

“Then remember that.” Nomalla finally said. “Remember the good times you shared, and move on. Stop wasting your life away on spirits. Live with honour. Curse it, one of us’s got to keep it.”

Sabine turned to her sharply. Nomalla looked away. They were both quiet for a few moments. 

“You fought with honour, Nomalla.”

Nomalla tried not to roll her eyes. Even now, with the love of her life gone, Sabine still tried to take care of other people. She had always been the softy. 

“My father was the master mind of the rebellion, Sabine. I don’t even dare to hope to keep my head after the trials.”

Sabine reached out and gripped her by the shoulders. “They won’t take your life. You helped save the prince. I’ll vouch for you. Beka and Farmer will vouch for you.”

Nomalla snorted. “To have two common Dogs vouching for me to save my skin. Don’t you see how low I’ve sunk?”

“What did I tell you about treating them with respect?” Sabine snapped. “Can’t you see that they’re the ones who saved the realm?”

Nomalla took a deep breath, and sighed. “I know. I apologise. I’ve been brought up to think that way my whole life.”

Sabine’s eyes softened. “I know. I know how hard your father was on you. I’m proud of you for choosing the right thing in the end. Don’t listen to what others say, Nomalla. You’ve kept your honour.”

Nomalla nodded, and swallowed. She stared as Sabine rubbed her temples with a grimace.

“I’ll fix you tea.” Nomalla said, “You better start cleaning up this pig sty of yours.”

Sabine nodded, and got to work.


	3. Friends - Clara and Sabine

Clara watched as Rosto scowl at Farmer’s retreating back, no doubt jealous that Farmer was carrying Beka in his arms. Beka, drunk as she was, held on to Farmer’s neck as she dozed. 

Tonight was good for her. It was good for Goodwin herself, as much as she hated to admit it. Only four of the attendees at the party held in Tunstall’s name knew of the horrible last moments of his life. Instead, they celebrated his life as a good Dog, with Dogs and Rats alike sharing stories that led to both laughter and tears. Beka drank. And drank. But she had looked more relaxed than she had been since she returned from the Hunt. 

It was well past midnight when the party finally started dying down. Rosto stood up to leave now that Farmer had brought Beka home across the street. Tomlan went to the privy, and it was only her and Sabine left in the Dancing Dove, sitting across from each other at the table. 

Clara watched as Sabine nursed the goblet of wine in front of her, and noted with interest that she was sober. 

“You didn’t drink much tonight.”

Sabine glanced sideways at her. These were the first words that Goodwin had said to her directly the whole night. 

“I’d drank enough, for him.”

Clara sighed, and looked down. “You’d done enough too, for him.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Clara smiled at the lady knight bitterly. “You made him happy. Even if you were the reason why he’d gotten mad in the end.”

Sabine’s hands tightened around her goblet. “Don’t you think I’d want to change that, if I can? That curst barbarian never listened when I tell him he’s good enough for me.”

“How long have you known him?” Clara asked, raising her own tankard and drained the last of the ale. “I told him that nobility was trouble, right from the beginning. No one can change the mind of that mule.”

Sabine snorted. “Mattes always said that you’re the wise one.”

“What good did that do?” Clara set down her tankard roughly, scanning the empty room. She remembered the faces who came, Dogs and Rats alike. Sabine was the only noble, apart from Lord Gershom. 

Clara sighed. “Listen. You’ve been a good friend. You saved Beka’s life on this Hunt.” She reached out and placed a firm grip on Sabine’s forearm. “If you ever need anything… remember that we’re still friends.”

Sabine’s lips trembled. “Don’t you… don’t you blame me, for what Mattes did?” She whispered. 

Clara sighed, shaking her head. “I wanted to. But that’s a foolish thing to do. He made a foolish choice. You’re hurt as much as the rest of us, and I doubt you’d want to share your sorrows with others who don’t understand.” She tried to smile. 

Sabine gripped Clara’s hand back in turn, her face conveying the gratitude that she could not utter in that moment. 

Tomlan came back to their table then, and he raised an eyebrow at her. 

Clara stood up, nodding at Sabine. She nodded back. 

As Clara left the Dancing Dove, her arms linked through Tomlan’s, she knew that she would always keep an eye on Sabine, noble or no. They were not quite friends, but they had both loved the same man, albeit in different ways. She felt almost as if she had a duty to Sabine. It would be the last thing she did for her friend and brother.


End file.
